


akira's itsy bitsy teeny weenie green tentacle fuck machiney

by canticle, JUBE514



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Dubious Consentacles, M/M, Tentacles, This Fic Contains Art To Enhance Your Reading Pleasure, but everything that happens is enthusiastically consented to!, in that it is not explicitly discussed before touching happens, m-mara......., status ailments for fun and profit, this is the fic that loses me all my leadership
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-17 02:29:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16966008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canticle/pseuds/canticle, https://archiveofourown.org/users/JUBE514/pseuds/JUBE514
Summary: Akira's suffering from the consequences of gaining his latest persona.(That persona is Mara. The consequences are a fancy new dick, in green, with some nice additional tentacles.)





	akira's itsy bitsy teeny weenie green tentacle fuck machiney

**Author's Note:**

> somehow i think ive been building up to this fic the entire time i've known of the existence of mara
> 
> this fic provided to you by 4 hours of shitposting and another 2 of editing the shitposting into something coherent. now if you need me i'll be over here, continuing to avoid the work i need to be doing by, probably, shitposting some fuckin' more.
> 
> the art sprinkled through this fic is by jube, who i cannot believe wasted their night flash-arting my stupid flash-fic. this entire fic is also dedicated to the fuckers who kept spurring me on, and hiyyo especially who started it, and rabid for enthusiastically pushing it off onto someone else so i felt honorbound to finish it.
> 
> okay you've been warned enough get on with it

 

 

>  
> 
> let's talk about fuckin status ailments!!!!! --canticle, right before terrorizing an entire discord chat for four hours

You don't know what the fuck Mara hit you with in that fight last night, the one where you'd barely suborned it into your arsenal before it slaughtered you all. It cast something you didn’t recognize, something you couldn’t catch the name of; something new and unknowable, something that brought you immediately to your knees, making you nauseous with something sickening crawling in your gut. No Shadow's ever picked you up like that, physically laid hands on you, grabbed you and stretched you out and somehow looked you over without a face, without eyes, with only spindly-fingered hands and a grotesque leering mouth and...fluid beading from the top of its head, fluid that fell to splash on your face, in your mouth, salty and bitter and cloying.

You chug three cans of grape Manta after the fight before it washes the taste fully out of your mouth, and blame the lingering queasiness in your gut on your traumatic experience.

What you can't blame it on later are your _weird fucking dreams,_ dreams that you can't remember when you wake up the next morning, dreams that leave your mouth dry and your cock aching. You crack a heavy eyelid open, and when you look around and don't see Morgana you think it's safe enough to reach down and grab your cock for a quick morning delight.

And then your cock fucking _grabs you back._

Yeah, you shriek like a scared little baby, but who fucking wouldn't?? You shrug your pants down in a hurry and then freeze, horrified—

Why is your dick green.

_Why is your dick green???_

Why are there tentacles, four of them, spindly little things that wave around blindly, that grope down to curl around your balls and your taint, not long enough to reach any further (thank fucking god)???

In any normal circumstance it'd be a boner killer.

...it should be a boner killer

_Why isn't it a boner killer???_

When you tries to yank your hand away the tentacles all snap up, curling around your fingers, tugging you back down, sealing your palm against your cock and you— you’re being fucking held hostage by your own goddamn boner, and your free hand slaps for your phone before the alarm about to go off brings Morgana barrelling back upstairs to wake you up.

Has there ever in the history of the earth been a teenage boy reluctant to jack it? Are you something unique in all the world right now?

(You still really really want to jack it. Even the weight and warmth of your hand sends little thrills of pleasure up and down your spine and—   _uhhhhhhhh..._ )

You don't normally leak much, don't even come all that much unless you’re super pent up, but right now it's all but drooling out of you like you’re salivating but from below. The tentacles yank your hand up, make you stroke your palm and fingers roughly across the tip (and it feels so good you grunt, a sharp, aborted noise) and then stroke back down. It's slippery and wet and feels so good that you see white, that you tilt forward until your face is mashed into the bed, fucking uselessly into the tight ring of your hand, of both your hands when you get the other one into it, oh god, oh fuck, oh _fuck—_

When your vision clears and your breathing slows and you can roll onto your side and start processing what the fuck just happened, your sheets look like you’ve spilled some sort of.....something...all over them. Like, melted lime jello or something. It's everywhere, too-viscous, too-bright green fluid splattered across your hand, all over your bed.

Coming out of the afterglow makes you horrified, but the tentacles go lax enough that you can have your hand back, so there’s a very minimal plus to the situation.

You do a very furtive very hurried load of laundry before school.

You can figure it out later, you can go into Mementos and summon Mara again, and make it, fucking, make it go away, because this is _horrifying._ Yyour dick is a deep earthy green. You’ve got _tentacles_ growing out of the base, for god’s sake!!!

At least, you thinks that you can wait until later, until Ryuji flings an arm over your shoulder on the last leg of the morning train and instantaneously you're harder than fucking diamond. You can feel the tentacles starting to writhe with interest again, crammed into the crotch of your suddenly too tight pants. There's nowhere for them to go but up, nowhere for them to go but wrapping around and around yourself— and holy fuck, the same thing's happening again, where you gets all slick and goopy way too fast. The inside of your boxers already feels like the equivalent of a slip-n-slide for dicks.

You dart away as soon as you possibly fucking can but the damage is already done, so instead you dip into the bathroom with a strangled _don't wait for me_ , already on the edge, and the tentacles just keep tightening around your cock, writhing in a way that feels almost unimaginably good.

You barely get your zipper open, barely get over to the urinal before you're coming, neon-bright liquid dribbling through your fingers to land green and sticky on the white porcelain below. Only then do you look around, panicked, but thankfully the bathroom is completely empty.

You barely manage to stumble into a stall and close the door before someone else comes in— that someone else being, of course, fuck you running, Ryuji. Who else could it be, sweet blond thirst machine that he is? It’s his fault you’re like this right now; you'd had it under control until Ryuji had to _touch_ you like that...

_Y’alright in there?_ Ryuji asks, and you barely manage to answer coherently, all too aware of the new spike of interest sparking in your gut, the tentacles winding themselves through your fingers again, eagerly trying to tug you down. You just came, just _barely_ came not _thirty seconds ago_ but you're still hard, still wanting, still ready to pop at any given moment.

Finally, _finally_ you get Ryuji to leave with a promise to meet you on the roof for lunch, just like you usually do.

And fucks _sake,_ on the way out he laughs _hey, looks like someone got a little too excited with their mountain dew this morning in here, there’s like, drops all over the floor._

You can’t do anything but awkwardly laugh, if only to cover up the slick, wet sounds of your hand getting involuntarily dragged up and down your cock again.

You finally make it into class but you're still agitated, the tentacles still wound tight around you, shifting every time you move, every time you breathe. You've got a fucking fistful of toilet paper shoved down your crotch to try and keep whatever the fuck is happening from showing, but barely 20 minutes into homeroom you don't think it's gonna last.

You can't focus, can barely think, nothing but the high pounding of lust and Ryuji in your brain, and _fuck_ , you can deal with the first but not the second, and you can't even escape to the bathroom before Ryuji catches you for lunch.

He's waiting for you, bright and cheerful as he ever is, and you tell you you’re gonna dip into the bathroom, just go ahead and wait for you on the roof, but Ryuji waves you off with a _Nah man, I'm not in any hurry, it's fine,_ so your fourth fucking orgasm of the day is spent biting into the shoulder of your blazer while you try to move your hand as silently and quickly as possible, trying to push yourself up and over the edge as fast as you fucking can.

It's almost overwhelming, it's almost too much, and Ryuji's worried voice when you grunt just spurs you on even fucking more.

Your underwear is a fucking wreck.

You're going to have to _burn them._

You shove more toilet paper into the crotch and hastily wipe your hand as clean as you can get, but you'll never be able to wipe the sin off.

It gets so much worse during lunch.

Like a fucking heat-seeking missile, your weird mara-dick seems to know that the object of your affections is sitting less than three feet in front of you like a golden god in the sunshine, and wants to forcibly drill its way out of your pants to get to him. The tentacles are going mad, writhing squirming, flailing; you's so fucking grateful your lower half is hidden below the desk.

Ryuji stretches, and your eyes lock onto that centimeter-wide strip of pale skin it exposes, your cock throbbing so hard you actually feels your zipper move down an inch.

You hastily tugs it back up.

Ryuji sees you and laughs— _what, you got itchy junk or somethin', man? You can scratch, we're both dudes, I don't care._

Oh god, if it was only that. If only you could give in and wrap your hand around yourself— or even better, Ryuji's hand, Ryuji's hand on your cock, Ryuji's mouth on your dick, Ryuji inside you, yourself inside Ryuji, holding him down, making him scream, making him come—

 _Earth to Akira_ ! Ryuji says from right in front of you, quizzically. _Man, you're a space case today, aint'cha? Everything alright?_

You are actually going to die of too much boner.

 _I'm tired,_ you say weakly; not an explanation, not an excuse, entirely all too true.

Ryuji's face falls in sympathy. _Y'look it man, get some rest tonight!_

He touches you on the shoulder.

You come in your fucking pants.

This is the worst fucking day of your goddamn life.

Somehow you keep it together for long enough to get back downstairs, staggering on weak knees to the nearest bathroom. The inside of your pants is soaked, you're flushed and overheated, and you just want to go home, ride this out (ha) in the privacy of your own bedroom, or pack some ice onto your dick so it goes down hopefully.

Somehow you makes it through the next period.

Changing into your gym uniform is a blessing— looser pants mean less crushing pressure on your overexcited cock. Unfortunately, it also means more room for the fucking tentacles to flail around. You beg off with the excuse of obviously looking unwell, and spend the period huddled miserably in the corner.

Half of it with, of course, Ryuji's oh so helpful arm flung over your shoulder and precum slicking all the way down to your thighs.

This is hell. This is hell and you’re dying.

Showering is a relief. You come twice before you have to get out, rinsing the pale green spatters off the wall radiating embarrassment.

Ryuji waits for you outside the stall, his brow creased when he sees the tender way you’re walking. _You sure you're alright, man_? he asks.

 _Fine_ , you say, because what else can you say? _My dick's gone all green and fixated on you, 'yuji, so if you could please just bend over so we can get to work—_

Oh shit, bad thought, the tentacles go fucking wild, and you drop into a crouch to try and hide the way your pants are suddenly… flailing. _Stomach cramp_ , you say, or mumble, or think you mumbles, all but blind with the feeling, barely aware of Ryuji slinging his arm across your shoulders to help you up. _No, don't—_

 _You gotta get to the nurse,_ Ryuji says with no hesitation, firmly (ha). _I'm gonna get you there, bro, I got you._

You groan and lets your head drop, the tentacles frantically moving up your shaft and down by your balls, and that shower was just fuckin useless wasn't it? You’re already disgusting again.

You barely remember getting to the office or lying on the bed, curled around yourself, when the urge becomes too strong and you rolls off it, staggering upright. Ryuji says something but you barely listen, fixated on the bathroom, on privacy, until Ryuji grabs your shoulder and spins you around.

You whine, high and shivery, you can’t _help_ it, and Ryuji's eyes drop to the blatant bulge in your crotch.

 _What the hell, man,_ he laughs, a little off-key, _what—_

 _Not here,_ you beg, flushing red all the way down to your shoulders, _it's a— i think it’s a metaverse thing, it won't go away, I can't make it—_

Thank god for quick-acting Ryuji, crowding you into the bathroom and closing the door behind you. _Tell me,_ he says, eyes serious, _what's goin' on?_

 _Be easier to show you,_ you mumble without even thinking.

_Then do that._

_It's my—_

_I can tell,_ Ryuji says very dryly, although he swallows nervously. _Show me anyway._

So you do.

You pull your zipper down millimeter by torturous millimeter, watching Ryuji's eyes bug out when he sees soaked green writhing fabric. _What the eff, Akira??_ he says a little louder than he should, and you shush him. _Seriously, what the eff??_

 _I think its from my newest persona,_ you grit out, fighting to keep your hands flat where they are on your thighs. _I think— you remember the fight, when it grabbed me, it did something to me and now I can't stop— I've been hard since this morning, I'm on a hair trigger, I've come like six times and it won't go down and it won't stop and I—_

 _Six times???_ Ryuji blurts, and just hearing his voice makes you hunch over in unrestrained lust, the tentacles thrashing wildly. You can't— you can't deal with the soaked fabric anymore, you thumb the waistband of your underwear down and hear Ryuji yelp _why is it GREEN???_

__

_I don't fucking know!!!_ you snap, _look, there's fuckin, there's tentacles too, this is awful._

You show him the tentacles. Each one starts wiggling in his direction the second you do, outstretched like tiny slimy dick-grabbin’ hands.

And oh, that's a thought, the tentacles holding Ryuji's dick tight to yours while he frots up against you—

 _Dude_ , Ryuji says in fascinated horror, _look how much you're leakin', holy shit—_

I know, you say weakly, leaning back— you've sat down against the closed toilet lid at some point, your pants shucked down to below your knees, the plastic cool against your ass as you give up and slide them all the way off, then your ruined underwear. _Look._

 _Gross,_ Ryuji says with the delight only a teenage boy can bring to the table. _Can I, uh…_ He doesn't specify what, but he comes in closer, and your dick bobs at that, the tentacles waving even more fiercely. _Why's it doin' that,_ Ryuji asks you, unnerved.

You close your eyes and sag back against the toilet. _It likes you._ no use beating around the bush (ha) about it, after all.

You open them right back fucking up a hot second later as one of the tentacles latches onto something that isn't your dick and Ryuji yelps.

 _What the fuck!_ he says as the tentacle currently wrapped around his pointer finger starts moving in incredibly obscene ways, as the other three redouble their efforts to get even closer to him. _Akira, what the fuck!_

 _I told you!_ you say crossly, your dick feeling cold without the tentacles wrapped around it.

He crooks his finger. Somehow you feel it like a jolt to the root of your dick and you go slack, sliding just a bit towards him, just enough that another tentacle manages to get a hold of him and starts reeling him in.

 _Oh no,_ you say with the horror of someone watching an inevitable trainwreck, _shit, I'm sorry—_

 _They won't let go,_ Ryuji says with concern that doesn't equal the gravitas of the situation, as a third tentacle wraps around his thumb and splays his fingers wide open, reeling him in, _why won't they—_

__

The moment of impact rocks you, leaves you breathless.

You double over with a strangled noise as the fourth one latches onto his fucking wrist, the other three moving lightning-quick, forcing his hand around you like they'd forced your own hand less than eight hours ago. It's the most delicious thing you've ever felt, foreign warmth, foreign callouses, Ryuji's fingers wrapped around your slick, throbbing, aching cock—

 _Dude,_ he breathes. You can't look at his face. _How are you still this hard after—_

You thrust into his hand. You can't help it, a high and useless whine in the back of your throat as the tentacles pull him tight up against you and then retract, letting you thrust against him, all the precome leaking from your tip spilling over his fingers, lubricating the way. You can't look at him but that doesn't mean you can't feel him, can't hear his breath go tight and uneven.

 _Sorry,_ you grit out, almost a sob, and then again, _sorry, oh my god i'm so sorry, fuck—_

Ryuji's fingers curl around you a little more, his thumb swiping across the head of your cock, and your back arches like a drawn bow as you come harder than any of these past times.

As you come down from your high, gasping for air like you've just run a marathon, the tentacles loosen their grip and let Ryuji pull his hand away. They're quiescent for the first time since you woke up this morning, curling up polite around the base of your dick, which is— fucking finally— starting to go flaccid. You groan in deep, unbridled relief, splayed out limp and boneless like you've just been well fucked and not just gotten a forced handy in the nursing office bathroom.

Ryuji's still staring at his hand, covered in a thin layer of green slime. You wince. _Sorry..._ you say again, quieter this time, the bite of shame high in your throat.

Ryuji shakes his head. _Holy shit, man,_ he says, sounding awed, showing you his hand. _How the hell d'you have anythin' left in your body if you've been comin' like that all day?_

You laugh, and you can't stop for a long, long time.

Ryuji helps you rinse out your disgusting underwear in the sink. They're still wet and clammy to pull back on, but at least you're not being slimed with your own effluvia. You catch him sneaking peeks at you— yeah, you're still green, even soft, and that's something you're still fairly concerned about, but that's something to worry about after you sit down and have a rest.

Ryuji looks shiftily at you, like he's got somethin' on his mind. _You said this's been happening all day?_

 _Hasn't gone down till you gave me a hand,_ you say sleepily, leaning hard on his shoulder. _Heh._

 _You should come home with me then,_ he says firmly, like something's been decided. _That way i can help again if you need me._

 _What the hell??_ you blurt, sitting straight up.

He rubs the back of his neck and turns away. You can see his ears turning pink. _You said it liked me,_ he mumbles. _You said you've been sittin' around like this all day. You're my best friend, man, if all it takes to help you out is, uh, a hand, then I—_

 _I don't deserve you,_ you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

He beams at you, even though he's still bright pink. _Yeah, well, right back atcha, man._

You're grateful for Ryuji, you're so grateful, but you also wish he wasn’t taking this so seriously or crowding in so close because the second he leans up against your back and presses his head to your shoulder in the crush of the train whoops, there you go again, perking up in interest.

You shift, but he doesn't move, and no one sees, so it's fine....for a given value of fine, at least.

You make it to his apartment, kick off your shoes, pretend that you're fine playing a round of video games, but his eyes keep darting to your face and then lower and you realise he knows too.

There's no point in delaying the inevitable. He scoots closer.

You pop the button on your slacks, and Ryuji swallows at the sight of the green already seeping through your underwear. He puts a finger on it through the fabric, and laughs at how fast and forcefully your dick bobs up to meet it. _Glad someone's finding this funny,_ you grouse.

 _Dude,_ he laughs, _it's like a dog gettin' all happy when its master comes home!_

You can't let that stand, can you? You shove him over and pounce, growling _I'll show_ **_you_ **_a dog—_

 _More like a bitch!_ he laughs, wrestling you easily to the ground. It’d be just like any normal day, if you weren't rock hard with your unbuttoned pants starting to shimmy-fall halfway down your hips.

He makes a motion that you're too busy being horny to track and all of a sudden you're on your front, Ryuji a long, hot weight stretched out all along you, holding you down. _Gotcha,_ he says, sounding way too smug, and you make a breathless, needy noise in response, already grinding down against the floor before you can help it.

 _Wait,_ you wheeze, _wait, fuck, your carpet, I can't, Ryuji I'm gonna stain it—_

 _Oh shit, you're right—_ he lets you up just enough for you to roll over before he pins you again, only this time you're face to face, you can see every inch of Ryuji's red cheeks and tousled hair and biceps chiseled enough to slice cheese on.

The tentacles, largely ignored for now, go fucking haywire again.

Somehow one thrashes its way out of your underwear enough to give the others the same idea— you go stiff at the feel of air on your exposed cock, but Ryuji's close enough that they can reach up and latch on to the fabric of his own pants.

You can feel everything that they feel. The seams, his pockets, the cold zipper— the hard outline of Ryuji's _own_ cock in his _own_ pants and you moan, go slack, bring your hands up to grab onto his forearms and shove your hips up so the tentacles can stroke over every long, hard inch of it.

 _Holy shit,_ Ryuji whispers— his mouth drops open, balancing himself on one hand so he can pop his own zipper, stroking down one of the tentacles with a thumb when it taps his knuckles to say hello and tracing his fingers back down the line of your cock again. Your hips jerk up. You want to press yourself into his hand, fuck into the tight tunnel of his fist...

He barely gets his zipper open, thumbing the waistband of his underwear down just a bit, before a tentacle whips up and wraps itself around the head of his dick.

Ryuji yelps and all but collapses on top of you, which makes you yell, because all four tentacles are now flailing around, coiling around Ryuji's dick, coiling around your own just like you'd thought of earlier, and if you thought Ryuji's palm felt divine, the slip-slide of his cock rubbing against yours is nothing but sinful.

 _Oh my god,_ he says again, punched-out and breathless, _Akira—_ and before he can say anything else you snap your hips up, and his words fizzle out, choked and breathless.

It's good, so good, it's so much better than before, because Ryuji's above you now, around you, surrounding you. You kick up a leg to wrap around one of his, to plaster yourself to his front and bury your face in his neck, like a full-body cuddle except for the way you thrust restlessly, helplessly against him.

He bears his weight down on you, stilling you, jaw slack, eyes hazy as the tentacles squirm over the two of you, holding you tight together. You go off before he does, eyes squeezed tight shut as you flood the space between the two of you. Your movements get messy, uncoordinated; Ryuji gasps at the sudden surge of _hot_ and _wet._

The tentacles work him over more fully as you still, as he thrusts against you; twining along his tip, his shaft, down to his balls—

He goes stiff and frozen as you whine, the feeling of hot-tight-warm foreign enough to jar you back to full awareness.

 _Akira,_ he says very evenly, and then the tentacle that's just slimed it's way down to his ass presses in and he tries to pull back but he can't, the others still have him tight, have him held so firmly to you, and you see the expression on his face go so bewildered, so astonished, as it goes in and in, coiling and pressing and—

Ryuji jerks, and swears, and comes between you, adding to the reason that you'll have to burn this entire uniform before you leave his apartment tonight.

 _What the hell,_ he wheezes, _why did—_

 _Do I look like I know??_ you mumble through a faceful of his shirt, tilting your head back to breathe. It brings your mouth into the general vicinity of his jaw and you think, blurrily, _fuck it_. Or maybe you say it, you don't know.

Either way, you mash your mouth against him in some blissed out parody of a kiss— it's the least you can do, what with the second tentacle wiggling its way inside him, the other two still working his cock over.

He's panting now, panting hot and wet against your cheek, little noises wrenched from him— but he's not fighting it. You kiss him again, delicately this time, deliberately, snudging your face into his cheek, nuzzling against the faintest hint of  stubble. _'Yuji…_

 _Shit,_ he breathes, and rocks against you again, just once. You feel the tentacles inside him coil. _Are you—  can you breathe, I know I'm squishin' you pretty bad—_

 _'m fine. Don't move, please—_  because you're not sure that he could actually get away without the tentacles yanking on his cock, which, ouch.

But when he shifts, moves up and back, the tentacles let him, and you mourn the loss of warmth, and the cold hair hitting you right in the wet spots.

He straddles your thighs, the tentacles reaching for him again, and he lets them wind around his fingers, lets them bring him back around your aching cock. This is ridiculous, you're going to dehydrate, you're going to come all the liquid out of your body and end up a shriveled green husk, but right now you'd wellcome it, with as good as his hand feels on your skin you'd welcome it.

His cleanest hand roams up and down the plane of your stomach, petting, soothing, as the other one wraps around you and jerks you unnaturally smoothly.

There's enough pre-come leaking out of you to lubricate your whole shaft and then some, and it should be disgusting, but instead it just makes it easy for Ryuji to move, slick slip-slide up-down up-down up-down twisting at the head in a move that makes you buck and shout and spurt up high enough to catch him in the corner of the mouth.

He grimaces and wipes it away, smearing a line of green all the way across his jaw.

You've gone flaccid again, and Ryuji helps you up to your feet, bumping against you playfully. _Should prolly shower again,_ he says, looking at the mess on both your pants.

You're more than down for that, even though Ryuji passing the washcloth helpfully over your shoulders as he kneels behind you makes the efforts useless.

Your dick is still up and eager for it, tentacles waving happily, swaying towards Ryuji every time he comes near.

 _I think I died and went to purgatory,_ you say thoughtfully, hoarsely, _because I can't decide if this is the best or the worst thing that's ever happened to me._

 _Not that hard a choice, man,_ Ryuji says, squirting soap into the washcloth and stroking it down your chest. You shudder. Your dick leaks a little more. At this point you've got a little green puddle beneath you. It's ridiculous.

 _Kinda is, though? Cause, like, the sex is great._ Ryuji barks a laugh. _The eternal slime-boner??? Not so much._

He laughs again, but quiets down; when you twist to look at his face he's got a furrow in his brow, thinking.

 _You said it likes me,_ he says finally. _It was, uh, when we were, y'know—_

 _Yeah,_ you say, _inside you._

 _What if,_ Ryuji says, not meeting your eyes, and you get a feeling that you know exactly what he's going to say and it sends a jolt like electricity right to your dick. _What if you have to fuck someone before it goes away?_

 _I wouldn't,_ you say immediately, _not if you didn't want it--_

 _what if I do?_ He's all bluster, red-faced, won't meet your eyes, but he presses up against you, and you can feel that he’s hard against the small of your back. _If it's you. For this. Or anythin', really._

 _Holy shit,_ you say blankly, and then you turn around to kiss him properly this time.

Which is how you end up bending him over the edge of the tub, face buried in his shoulder as two of the dick-tentacles thrust into him, drawing a high-pitched noise out of him. a third traces around his hole— you can feel it, even if you can't see it, feel it flexing, nudging its way in alongside the other two.

He's panting, his face buried in his arms, and you press a kiss to the divot in his spine as the fourth tentacle eases in, and they _spread—_

Ryuji's making a low noise, a thick, wounded noise, and your hand on his rock-hard cock strokes up and down, up and down as the tentacles writhe, as you clumsily nudge your way between his cheeks and press yourself to him, as they spread him wide enough to encompass just the tip in a hot, tight passage.

 _Holy shit,_ Ryuji hiccups, _I can still feel them in me—_

__

Because they're still moving, still wriggling, even as you bury yourself inch by blessed, blessed inch until your hips are flush with him, until you're boneless, all but drooling against his shoulder blade because it's the best fucking thing you've ever felt, tight-hot-wet-satisfying something deep inside you—

And then the tentacles flex and you _move_ and pulling out is the best fucking thing you've ever felt, that velvet-soft friction lubricated by the still-ridiculous amount of shit you're dribbling out, and then the thrust back _in_ is the best thing you've ever felt because Ryuji clamps down on you and whines, and you move your hand faster on his cock, a heavy weight draped over his back, your awareness narrowing to the hot pressure around you as you thrust.

You think you gray out for a while; all you can feel is whatever’s happening around your cock (and still-attached tentacles), and you only come back to yourself when you realize Ryuji's making pleading noises, high, frustrated things as you rock into him, and you realize your hand's slowed to almost a standstill, your fingers ringing the base of his cock as you make shallow, desultory thrusts into him.

 _C'mon,_ he's saying, almost begging, _Akira, Aki, Aki, please, fuck, dude, you're killing me, c'mon—_

You thrust again.

The tentacles flex just as you draw your hand back down him, root to tip, sliding your sticky fingers one by one over the tip and he clenches down so hard you see stars, a guttural noise escaping as he comes for the second time this afternoon, and that's all that was needed to set you off into your—  you count back fuzzily, even as you ride out the aftershocks, and come up with a ludicrous _tenth_.

Ryuji shudders under you, panting hard. You slip out of him, finally, finally going soft and— soft and flesh colored! _Oh thank god,_ you blurt, _they're gone, the— the tentacles, they're fucking gone, Ryuji—_

 _Damn,_ he mumbles, and then _no, wait, uh, that’s good,_ turning to look at you all blissed out and silly. _Prolly gotta shower again._

There's green all over both of you, down to his knees, down to your knees, splattered across the tile. _Yeah,_ you agree around a yawn, _'n then I gotta-- I gotta nap for like, a month._

He laughs and stretches; you can't help but be drawn to the splatters of neon green that trickle down the insides of his thighs. It doesn't make you hard again(thank fucking god) but you file it away for spank material anyway.

You shower properly, Ryuji propping you up when your knees finally give out and send you sprawling unceremoniously to the ground. You layer yourself over and around him after he helps dry you off, after he escorts you back into his room and tucks down into bed beside you with a _powernap first, and then we’ll go and get your dick-persona taken care of, yeah?_

 _Yeah,_ you agree, sleepy and blissed. _Sounds good to me._

(Later that evening you expel Mara from the list of the personas you carry and beat it into the fucking ground. Nothing has ever been as satisfying [except, just maybe, being balls-deep inside Ryuji on your tenth orgasm of the day] but you’re not thinking about that.)

**Author's Note:**

> akira doesn't deserve any of the fucking shit i put him through


End file.
